The Hunger Games Fic
by FruitBatOB
Summary: My version of the hunger games, with more focus on the action, and less on the terrible twilight romance.


I reach down to my thigh, blinking out the blood and sweat dripping from my forehead and mingling around my throat. Struggling with my free hand as my other holds the dark green tarp over me, I manage to free the knife from my sheath. I feel out of balance with only one knife, but I lost the other one earlier. Still, I am just as deadly with one, albeit slower. I pull the tarpaulin from my back for a moment, just a crack, and smells fill me. The smell of the rancid mud I'm crawling in, the horrible stench of the rotting bird carcasses that litter my camp, but also some nice ones. I can pick up on the scent of the sweet medicine I was gifted, as well as a delightful whiff of bread. Why can I smell bread? Nobody can bake here in the arena. This odd circumstance jolts me into survival mode and I scan the area thoroughly. The others must have moved on after they cut me, and I went down. Sheer luck caused another to die and the cannon to make them believe I was dead. Pulling the tarp fully off, I stand up quickly. Too quickly. I go all light-headed and woozy and start to wobble. The loss of blood, combined with my sudden movement causes me to fade into the warm bliss of unconsciousness. I realise the cameras are on me, and that it's as good as over. With my last conscious thought, I raise my fist, thumb and forefinger extended like a phone sideways. The District 2 symbol for goodbye.

I guess I should give some backstory as to how I got here.

My name is Gaius Marius. I was born in District 2, the district in charge of quarries, weapon manufacture and providing the peacekeepers to the whole of Panem. My story (at least the interesting bit) started 3 weeks ago, in the square. The whole town was gathered. A reaping always draws a crowd. Partially because it's mandatory, but also out of sheer interest. I was right at the front, my face practically pushed up into that of the president. She reached into a huge glass bowl filled with the name of every 12-18 year old boy in District 2, swirled her hand around, and very theatrically, said the words I had been dreading since the age of 12, 4 years in total.

"Gaius Marius, you are the NEXT TRIBUTE!"

The relish with which she shouted next tribute chilled me to my core.

She watched, hawk like with her piercing eyes as I climbed the stairs to the stage, wondering if it was possible to make a run for it. I didn't run, but only because the female tributes name was called.

"Rachel Marius!" My sister. I wanted to scream. To jump to her aid and stop her from being pulled up, but I didn't. I watched dumbfounded, numb to the world, so much so that I almost didn't hear the delicate voice of Hymen from the back as she said "I volunteer"

Fastforward to later on, after we have said our goodbyes and grabbed our weapons of choice (This was a Quarter Quell, and this years twist was there would be no weapons in the arena, and every competitor could bring their own. I had chosen my two personally smithed knives, made of the sharpest titanium, and weighted perfectly for me, whereas Hymen took off her jacket to reveal a belt of razor edged throwing stars, each one encrusted with a little gem, reflecting the light as a rainbow.) We are sitting in a train car, travelling at speeds we could only imagine towards the Capitol. "Why did you volunteer Hym? Why didn't you let Rachel come?" I try to convey my gratitude, but I think it may have gone over differently. "I didn't volunteer for her G, I volunteered for me and my family. Saving her life was just a happy coincidence." She sounds unconvinced by her own argument.

"So, got a strategy? A plan?" I murmur, trying to make small talk. She just shakes her head. Her hands move to her neck as they do when she is lying. It surprises me that I can recognize her little idiosyncrasies like that. Why do I know so much about a girl I barely ever spoke too before we were reaped? I mean, I always thought she was pretty, and lusted after her once or twice, but she was way out of my league and so it struck me how much attention I had been unknowingly paying to her.

"You?" She asks back, her face defying me to lie as she had. I pull my knives from their sheaths and lay them carefully on the table.

"I am going to take these, and shove them so deep into anyone who threathens me, I'll have to use a map to get them out." I almost shout. The horrified look on her face makes me giggle. I lose my angry straight face and put the knives away.

"Pfft, I can't believe you thought I was serious!" I splutter through my laughter "I have no plan. I want to win of course, but I am realistic."

She looks bewildered. "What? We are from District 2, we are careers, we have been trained since birth in combat and survival, our districts can afford gifts, I don't know what you mean. We have all the advantages."

She is right, of course. We are better prepared than the others, and richer too. But that isn't what I meant.

"Killer Instinct." I murmur almost inaudibly. She looks puzzled for a minute and realizes what I mean. She looks deep into my eyes with hers, the beautiful emerald pools matching perfectly the gem in her topmost throwing star and she says.

"I understand."

Our touching conversation, slightly too personal for my liking, is brought to an abrupt halt. Literally. The train stops with such force, I am thrown against the wall, and one of her stars is ripped from her belt and flung into the wall next to me. The door opens, and a peacekeeper walks in. A hulking beast, but not one who scares me.

"DAD!" I scream, jumping to my feet so fast the star next to me tears my shirt open. "I thought you were on duty in District 12!"

He laughs, with a voice that is so deep and bassy I swear I feel the carriage rumble.

"Son, you got reaped. I wouldn't miss saying goodbye for my life. Besides, you forgot your token!"

My heart skips a beat. My token. Without it, I'd be psyched out, and sure to fail. He pats his big breast pocket and plucks out a coin. It's made of solid ruby, engraved with my face on one side, and my sisters on the other. She has the same one, but sapphire. It symbolises our family as a whole, and means more to me than anything. I give my dad a massive hug, gripping him hard, and release. When I pull back, there are tears in his eyes. He wipes them away, squeezes my hand reassuringly and gives me a kiss on the forehead. I just stand there dumbfounded. I've never seen my dad cry. He's always been the immovable object, the enforcer, never shown weakness in that way and it both touches me and reaffirms that I must win.

We sit back down, and all talk is lost for a moment. Then finally, Hymen breaks the silence with:

"So...Why don't we have handlers this year? Normally the tributes have a handler."

I never really thought about it. The fact that the president did the reaping not a handler and that we were ushered on alone, not even meeting our mentors. Odd. I start to say that we are probably being handled by the mentors themselves this year when a voice rings out, in answer to the question.

"Hullo my tributes! Ready to get all tarted up, then fight for the honour of District 2?"

It's Titan. A strong, tall man, who had won the games 3 years previously at the age of 16. He was as thick as two short planks, not a braincell in him. But I've spoken to him on occasion and he was a nice guy, who genuinely seemed sorry he had killed so many people. Behind him however, is our other mentor. Enobaria, a sly looking woman who I have never liked. Not since I watched her games and saw the ruthless way she took tributes out. She genuinely seemed to take pleasure, see it as sport. I resolve to thank whoever chose out mentors for picking Titan to balance out the rooms tipping evil scale. They take a seat on a plush velvet couch on the side and began to chatter. Well, Titan does. Enobaria just sits there, staring at a wall, looks forming an expression of pure malice.

I allow my thoughts to wander freely. No matter what nonsense I try to fill my head with, I always come back to the same thing. Killing. Can I do it? Can I end someone's life? I guess I will have to. Preferably sooner than later. I snap back into the conversation at an interesting moment. Titan is gesturing to a television on the wall, and telling us that he has tapes of the reapings. This gives us a time to scope our targets out, to understand them, even before we meet. He reaches into his big bag, pulls out a tape and puts it in.

"District 1." He says. He pushes play and we sit back. I see a boy, obviously a very arrogant person, who volunteers and saunters onto stage. Shine, his name is. I am not looking forward to allying with him. The girl seems more reserved. She volunteers, same as the boy. But she simply takes her blowgun from the hands of a nearby man and steps up to the stage. Her name is Glitter. It certainly fits her.

We watch as the cameras cut to a shot of Shine walking into his house and snatching up a beautiful sword. Made of a golden material, but obviously much harder. With a hilt of amethyst. District 1-luxury items. How gaudy. The tape slides out into Enobarias hand and she pushes in the next tape.

"You. This is your reaping."

I am puzzled for a moment, but realise we are going to see how we look.

I look good actually. I don't show my fear, and the fact I make a little bit of a start towards Rachel before halting shows just enough feeling for me to come across as down to earth. Hymen is striking. Her voice must have been artificially amplified, because it's much louder than I remember. The camera zooms on me, showing my relief, to Rachel, showing elated joy and then to Hymen, who tears open her jacket. Her stars shine brightly, but the real focus is her face. So gorgeous. Powerful. Amazing. I find my gaze flick to her, and I realise why she volunteered. Her mum died recently. She was providing for the family. She'd done this to ensure a steady stream of money if she won. I reach over, and give her shoulder a reassuring squeeze.

District 3 pops into the screen, and I realise the tape's changed.

A boy gets reaped, Mensa. I allow myself a chuckle at his expense. He looks bewildered. The girl, Elysuus however, seems sly. Even the way she shouts that her name is Net. She seems confident. Could be a worry.

Next up is District 4, and the girl, Delphine, cries. Unusual for a career but still. She slowly meanders to the stage and sobs quietly. Before the president even says a name, a boy shouts, with a commanding voice. His names Finnick. Named after the legendary Finnick Odair, and brandishing a silver spear, he certainly looks the part. Several girls loudly swoon, and he swaggers up to the stage, commanding the attention of all the crowd. I make a mental note to take him out as soon as it's doable. Our alliance will be short. Of that I am certain.

District 5 has an angle, one that makes me blink in disbelief.

The two people who are called up, Sam and Kate, are twins. Both reaped, neither volunteered. What are the odds? They link arms, and with a hand each on their swords, the stride to the stage, ever the loving family. Hymen is obviously repulsed at the idea of one of them having to leave the other behind.

District 6 is fairly uneventful, two average looking tributes with no real defining characteristics.

Then Titan pops 7 in. The boy who gets reaped, Jack, is a mountain. He must be 8 foot tall, and just as wide. He clutches a club that would dwarf me, and takes the whole trip to the stage in 3 steps. His girl counterpart is underwhelming, and nobody pays her any mind. They're too busy looking at the mountain of a man who has stepped up. He's a wild card.

The train slows to a stop, and I realise we are at the Capitol. Titan hands me the box of tapes.

"Look through these if you want, you'll meet the tributes soon enough anyway."

Hymen and I both check our weapons, steel our faces, and walk out of the train.

The paparazzi are already there. There were cameras at the reaping, but so few compared to this. You can't walk a step without colliding with a microphone, or being blinded by the flash of the cameras. We are ushered through by Titan, while Enobaria stays back and handles the cameras.

A lone journalist slips past the barrier and into my path. I gauge my options, and realise this is a great opportunity to get the attention of sponsors. I whip my knives out of their sheaths, jump up, and come down on him. He ends up lying back on the floor, with a knife to his neck. I laugh cruelly, sheath my knives, and help him up. I push him back into the suddenly silent crowd with a flourish and carry on. I do feel bad for him, he looks positively terrified, but that footage is guaranteed to get me some sponsors. We continue on till we reach a beautiful building. So extravagant looking, the glass, the steel, the plants all around, it's overwhelming. We get inside and make our way to the lift. Hymen steps inside but I turn, and walk to the stairs. She gives me a puzzled look, but doesn't seem to mind, so she travels up alone, while our mentors talk with the clerk at the desk.

I always prefer stairs. I'm petrified of heights, and stairs allow me to control my height, so I feel much safer. Nobody knows that, and nobody must. To show weakness would be to slit my own throat. On my way up, I collide with a girl. Short, dark skinned and wearing a fine gown, I do not recognize her. She recognizes me however, and introduces herself as Weave. She's from District 8, and she's the tribute. She mentions she saw my reaping, and then flounces down the stairs. She was lovely. I had to push those thoughts from my head. She could be faking it, to gain my trust. If it came to it, I had to be able to kill her without a second thought. I get to the top of the stairs and see my room. It has a big '2' on the door and my name under it. I open it and walk in. Inside is lavish like I've never experienced. If that was what it was like for me, from a wealthy family in a rich district, I could only imagine how the tributes from the lower districts must feel. I slump onto my bed and allow the events of the day to flood over me. I don't cry, I don't curse, I just lay silently for a while. An avox walks in, carrying some clothes. She motions to a note on the drawers next to my television. I hadn't noticed it. I look at the avox, and with a deep sigh, I stand up.

"I know I am not allowed to talk to you unless I am ordering you about, so drop the clothes on the bed there." She does as I ask.

"I just want you to know, I feel sorry for you and your lack of tongue. Now please leave, I don't want you to get in more trouble for this."

She walks out. I have no idea why I said it. Why did I feel the need to identify with her, a tongueless traitor? Ah well, she left anyway. Now, the note. I pick it up and read. It's from Titan, says I need to go to the dining hall in a few minutes. I jump into the shower, and am bamboozled by the knobs. Knobs that do everything, from cover me in a sweet smelling foam to one that's labelled "body polish". I just wash myself with water and step out. Towelling off my hair, I look at the clothes. They are plain black trousers and a white shirt. I put my token in the top pocket, slip my shoes on, give my hair one last brush and step out the door.

Downstairs, I wander through to the dining room. I see Titan instantly, but my eye is caught by another boy. I recognize him as Jack, the district 7 man mountain. He could be a useful ally in the games. I stroll over to him.

"Hey, Jack right" I murmur.

He grunts almost unintelligibly and I take that as a get lost gesture. I sit down anyway, deciding that he has to at least let me speak my piece.

"So, the games huh? I was thinking, us careers will band together as always, and I reckon it's worth you joining us."

Then quieter, so only he could hear me.

"Look, I'm not like them, I'm here because I was reaped, like you. I have to be here, and I am determined to stay alive, but that doesn't mean we can't team up for the start."

Another grunt.

"Look, my room number is 212, come see me if you change your mind."

I walk away, my feet shuffling along the floor sadly.

"Wait"

The sound comes from behind me. Almost silent, but unmistakeably deep.

I turn and he has got his hand out.

"Come sit by me, lets talk."

Jack motions to a chair and I take my seat.

"So, you were reaped?" He says.

"Yeah, I'm not stupid, course I didn't volunteer. That would be fucking moronic."

So we sit, silently, and then he outstretches his hand.

Tentatively I shake and with that, a silent sloppy shake of our wrists, out alliance is made.

"But now the problem is, the other careers. Will they accept me?" He asks, almost nervously.

"Mate, course, they'd never turn down the opportunity to have a guy like you on their side."

I walk back over to the table with my mentors, Hymen and a man I'd never met.

Sliding into my seat, I discreetly give a thumbs up to Hymen, and her expression brightens.

Turns out the new man is head gamemaker. He isn't really supposed to talk to a competitor before the games but the district 2 guys always get special treatment. He sits and laughs jovially. I am filled with deep hatred to this happy looking man, who takes great pleasure, and a paycheck from watching kids die, year after year. I put on my best smile to convince them all I don't hate everything. I do though and this lunch is the hardest of my life.

Later on, sitting in my room, naked save for the thin boxers stretched over my groin, I hear a knock.

I look in through the peephole and it's Weave. The District 8 girl came to my room? I hurriedly throw on a dressing gown and open the door.

"Hello there, can I help you?" I mutter, still wondering if she has the wrong room or something.

She giggles, and it's immediately obvious that she's been drinking. We aren't meant to drink, or fight before the games. Letting her in seems like a bad idea but I do it anyway. Sending her away is bound to cause problems. She struts in, still giggling away and I stop for a second. Is this a ploy? I mean, pretending to be weak and defenceless so nobody bothers with you has been done before, but what about making the other tributes fall in love with you? Has that been done? I guess I'll have to be cautious. She slumps onto my bed, and at once her mouth is running 100 to the dozen.

"Oh my god, your bed is like, so much more comfy than mine, like, why don't I get such a comfy bed? Can I sleep here tonight, oh my god it's so comfy!"

I am puzzled, she acts and speaks like a District 1 or 2 girl, who has never had to work in her life, not a District 8 worker.

"Uh, can I ask you something?" I stutter nervously

Of course, she doesn't answer, because she's too busy molesting my sheets, but I press on.

"What did you do back in District 8? Did you work a lot?"

She giggles some more and with a shake of her head, launches into a long spiel.

"Well, like, no, because my dad is the mayor. I was only even entered in the reaping because a capitol inspector came and found out, like, that we'd been taking my slips out, like."

That explains it, but if she says 'like' one more time, I am going to beat her over the head.

I walk over to the cabinet next to the television that houses the mini-bar and retrieve a bottle of water each from it. I turn to give her one but am dumbstruck. She's lying there with no top on. In the 30 seconds I turned around, she started to strip. I gulp and walk over.

Then I wake up. Cold sweat, but this was no nightmare. I look over at the clock-5:26-and sigh with relief. I can't have dreams like that, I must detach myself from the emotions of those around me, if I can ever kill them. Training starts tomorrow, I have to be ready. I'll never be able to sleep now, so I get up out of bed. Grabbing from the huge wardrobe a pair of baggy trousers and a soft shirt, I pick up a water bottle, and resolve to go down to the gym for a bit.

Once down there, in the hot room with it's noisy air conditioning, I notice that I am not alone. Strangely, it's a boy my age, obviously a tribute, but not one I know. That means he must be from a district we never watched. I wander over to the benchpress and choose a nice comfortaable weight for myself. I'm not particularly muscular, but the muscles I do have, at least according to Hymen, "ripple underneath my shirt tensely, exerting an air of power". I think it's a load of hogwash, but there's no denying I have some muscles. Not huge ones, but wiry ones, they help with speed, and I have power behind my punches so it's not all bad. I start working out, looking over at the boy. His skin seems vaguely grey, and it occurs to me that he is well built. Not huge like Jack, not wiry like me, but toned. He looks powerful, like with a flex he could snap your neck. The grey skin triggers a recall from school, and I realise he must be from District 12. I can remember being told in class that coal miners have so much peat and coal dust in the air that their skin starts to turn a faded grey. It still doesn't quite fit however, he can't be older than 16, and you have to be 18 to start mining if I remember. He turns, and notices me.

"Sup." a short greeting, but at least it wasn't cold and angry.

"Hey, How are you?"

"Alright, I'm Cole."

I allow myself a chuckle at his expense. Cole the coal miner. Fitting.

"So, what's up with you, you look like a miner, but you're surely not old enough to be one?"

His eyes flicker nervously, but he regains his composure almost instantly. This is someone who is an accomplished liar.

"Well, too late to pretend I guess, I'll tell you. I'm 15, not old enough to mine, but I do...well, did. The peacekeepers in 12 are lazy, the reaping ballots are done mostly on an honour system. For a year now, I have been sneaking in, burning my slips, and then, using fake papers, working in the mines. Unfortunately, that all changed when we got a new Head Peacekeeper. Name was some weird shit, something Marius, I dunno."

I freeze, suddenly aware of my heartbeat. My dad was on duty. I have to tune in again.

"Yeah, so anyway, I snuck in as usual, all good, and I am just walking out when he's there. Long story short, either my entire family pay for my lies, or I get put in the games. The reaping was fixed. Whassisname Marius made sure of that."

I blink, again and again. My dad is solely responsible for this boy being put here. I am repulsed by the thought. All I want to do is leave. Then he asks.

"Wait man, I never caught your name, or district!"

I turn hastily, and mutter "Gaius Marius, District 2".

Running down the hall, I can't believe my luck, or lack thereof. This guy will most definitely hate me. It's never good to have a vendetta in the games. He may be a 12-er and I may be a career but I wouldn't expect him to let that stop him. Images flash through my head of him and me fighting. I know I have my knives, but what did he bring? A pickaxe? In a straight fight, it'll probably be even. I may have speed, but what's to say he doesn't? Plus, he clearly has muscles to spare, as well as motive. I will have to watch him. I look at a wall clock and am surprised to see I was in the gym for an hour, but it felt like minutes. I decide to go back to my room and have a nice long shower, really pamper myself before I go to breakfast. I step into the shower, and begin pressing buttons. A vile smelling green foam shoots out, covering me head to toe, before being sprayed off by the water. I look at my skin and see that my few imperfections, my moles and freckles, are gone, replaced by soft skin. My nails, too, are shiny and buffed, making me look like the stylists have done their work. I keep pressing, till I step out smelling of roses and cleaner than a hospital's operating room.

I grab some clothes, a comfortable fitted black suit with a blood red cravat. I look unnatural, like I'm trying to be older, but this is what was laid out so I put it on. I style my unruly hair, with help from another of the showers buttons, and waltz out of the door. Hymen is at the stairs, strikingly beautiful as always, in a revealing red dress.

We walk down the stairs, as I attempt to think of small talk, but she does for me.  
"So, that girl from 8, she's the mayors daughter, did you know?"

I baulk, how did I know that in my dream? Am I psychic? Hymen continues on.

"Yeah, you probably do. She sang in the christmas address, remember? All the mayors kids performed something?"

My mind is put at ease, thank god, some mystical power could only be a bad thing these days.

We walk down to enjoy our last night before the remake centre, and training.

The night is pretty boring, just pandering to our every whim by the avoxes, and Titan's booming laugh half deafening me every minute.


End file.
